


the best cure

by banditchika



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: F/F, Fluff, mild spoilers for episode 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banditchika/pseuds/banditchika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And for once, they understand each other perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the best cure

The scrape on her knee is raw and angry, with spider-webbing lines of red rising from beneath the grime and torn skin. It looks awful, and Mari dreads to imagine what her bruised, battered face must resemble. She flinches when Kanan presses gauze to to her chin, and swears softly as the peroxide seeps into the wound.

“Hold still,” Kanan warns, the brush of her fingers soft against Mari’s cheek. She dabs at the scrape on Mari’s chin, maneuvering her tweezers with a careful hand. The sting of rubbing alcohol is unpleasant at the best of times–now, with Mari sodden and shivering, the sensation is almost unbearable.

“Ow…” Mari whines. Her lower lip brushes the wet cotton, and she wrinkles her nose at its acrid tang. Kanan draws back, eyebrows raised. “Kanan, it hurts!”

“Don’t ‘Kanan’ me–and of course it does! You fell flat on your face.” She taps the gauze against Mari’s nose. There is a scrape there too, and Mari winces at the sting. “If we don’t treat these properly, you might scar.”

“But you can afford to be a little more gentle, right?” Mari asks, sticking out her lower lip like a spoiled child. Kanan laughs, the sound so rich that Mari thinks she could bottle it. There’s a small part of her that had been steeling itself for another cold rebuff–to see the harsh line of Kanan’s lips and her flinty eyes–but Kanan is smiling like she used to, teeth gleaming in the afternoon light. Mari is relieved, ashamed, and a whole host of other complicated emotions–but mostly, just pleased.

“Next time, break your fall when you trip,” Kanan takes Mari’s chin in her hand. “So you’ll scrape up someplace less sensitive than your face.”

“Hmm, I doubt I’ll be running like that anytime soon.” This time, Mari bears the sting with good grace… and a few creative grimaces. Kanan’s smile, soft and fond, helps too. After returning to Awashima and Uranohoshi, Mari had not been certain if she would ever see Kanan smile so easily at her ever again. Her fears and worries feel like a stone in the ocean, being eroded by the waves of Kanan’s warmth. “After all, I think a certain someone’s learned her lesson about being so thick-headed, yes?”

Kanan averts her eyes, the slightest of glances at the illegible words on the whiteboard. It’s an admission of shame, however small, and Mari wants to take her face in her hands, bring her eyes back towards her own. They need to talk more about this–Mari can practically feel Dia’s irritated stare boring into the back of her head, hear the whip crack of her snapping voice–but for now, this is fine. Mari wants to enjoy this trivial moment with Kanan. Sitting here and complaining about her scrapes and bruises is much preferable to thinking, rethinking, worrying, and weighing every word that comes out of her mouth. Mari can close her eyes and simply be happy–reveling in the way Kanan touches her, how two years of walls and defenses and excuses crumble in the space between them.

“I could say the same about you, y’know.” Kanan reaches for Mari, cupping her face in her hands. A calloused thumb sweeps over Mari’s cheek, and she leans into the warmth of Kanan’s palm. “Does it really hurt that much?”

“Well, if I said it was _terribly_ painful, would you kiss it all better?” Mari puckers up and laughs when Kanan squishes her cheeks between her palms. It hurts, just a bit, but no more so than contorting her face to smile or speak. Kanan is a gentle soul, after all.

And gentle Kanan is when she brushes her lips over the scrape on Mari’s cheek. Mari’s mouth falls open, and her teasing dies an early death, the words rattling unsaid in her chest. She can barely hear anything past the hammering of her heart and the faint whisper of Kanan’s breathing.

Kanan draws back. “There.” Her lips quirk with the self-satisfaction of someone who’s just met a challenge and exceeded it. Mari supposes that she has. “Do you feel better?”

She swallows, and feels her blood pound in her ears, flushed with the fire of flirtation. “I don’t know. I think my chin is starting to sting too.”

“Oh, sounds bad. Let’s try that again.” Kanan’s lips are dry, and just a bit rough–but they’re warm, and Mari’s skin flushes with heat when she ghosts them over the line of her jaw. Mari squeezes her eyes shut until she hears creaking metal and wood. She opens her eyes.

Kanan sits back in her chair and rests her chin in her palm, tweezers and gauze lying forgotten on the table. She’s blushing, so brightly that she looks like a boiled lobster, but Kanan doesn’t seem embarrassed in the least. Her smile is fond, and her eyes soft, expectant–Mari thinks that if she asked Kanan for anything at this moment, no matter how strange or embarrassing, she would do it with a laugh. 

Mari licks her lips, and sees how Kanan’s eyes wander. “Say, Kanan?”

“Yes?”

“I think I bit my lip when I fell.”

“Really? I can’t pour peroxide on that.” Kanan leans in with a smile, and Mari meets her halfway.

\---

“Say, Kanan?”

“Yes?”

“I scraped up the inside of my thigh when I fell. Could you–?”

“I’m stopping you right there.”

**Author's Note:**

> aka: they're rlly feeling it. lmao as you can tell, i'm really enjoying sunshine!


End file.
